Home, Sweet Home

Wow, that took a while. We left the Paris apartment at 7.15am on Monday and walked through our front door at 5.05am Thursday.

Thank you Singapore for another lovely stopover.

The trip was a blast and we look forward to chatting with you all soon.

Up, Up & Away

The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral and yesterday, the Arc de Triomphe – the steps that Chris, Sam and I have ascended during this holiday have been equal to several days on a Stairmaster … I hope. It may make up for the fact that everything we have put in our mouths seems to have been cooked, coated or confited in saturated fat…

While the view from the tower is brilliant and obviously much higher, I prefer the outlook from the Arc. Once at the top, one is perfectly positioned to take in the breadth and beauty of the entire city.

Atop the Arc de Triomphe

I especially love the sight of Sacre Coeur, perched high on the hill of Montmatre.The monument was designed by Napoleon to celebrate France’s remarkable victory at Austerlitz and although the arch was a brash and unashamed testament to his own power, I was a little sad when I discovered Napoleon died before its completion. He never had the opportunity to climb the stairs and look out at the city, but it was finished in time for his funeral procession to pass underneath. Better late than never, I suppose.

Today, our penultimate day in the city, we took Sam to bid au revoir to his favourite tower of all time, the Eiffel. We strolled underneath it and examined it from all aspects.

I was expecting tears when we left, but Sam was happy and at ease in the knowledge that he will return. He quizzed me about the towers of Canberra and I reminded him there was just one – Black Mountain Tower. I promised him we will visit it as soon as we’re home.

In playground under the ever-watchful eye of Mr Eiffel

Tomorrow, our final in the city, we’ll revisit the bird markets on the Ile De La Cite which Sam loved so much and then wander up to the Louvre. I don’t think I will be as stoic as Sam when I have to say goodbye to a city that I adore. The excitement of flying on an A380 and swimming in a hotel pool in Singapore has quashed Sam’s sadness. I, on the other hand, am quite positive that I suffer from whatever the opposite of homesickness is called.

A stripy art installation in the Palais Royale

Sam donates to an amazing troupe of classically-trained buskers

Note for busting (not busking) travellers: When in a non-Australian city I’m always on the look-out for decent public toilets. In Paris they are few and far between. On the walk down the Avenue des Champs Elysees on the way home from the Arc de Triomphe I spotted a sign on the footpath reading “Point WC. The Cleanest Toilet in Town”. I was hooked. I followed the directions on the sign and came to toilets/shop which charged, as a minimum, 2 Euros per visit. I was about to walk away, but I was intrigued. I paid my 2 Euros and was rewarded with a sparkling clean cubicle decorated like a library (book wallpaper, not actual books). When I finished a cleaner rushed in and scrubbed the cubicle. The soap was glorious, the sinks spotless and the towels fluffy. The shop sold toilet and bathroom paraphernalia with a massive selection of quirky toilet paper. After telling Sam and Chris about my adventure they ventured in and were ushered into a cubicle with find-a-word wallpaper. The price list had nothing to do #1s or 2s. The costs were simply an indication of cubicle size and the facilities within.

A Big Wish

“Paris is the starting point of success,” wrote Victor Hugo way back in 1867. His words were intended for the attendees of the Exposition Universelle that very same year, but for us they ring as true as the day they were written. This trip has confirmed for our family what we have known for the last few years, that Europe (if not Paris) is where we are most comfortable.

The streets of Paris and London and Rome inspire us. They challenge us, educate us and fill us with awe and respect. Yesterday we entered Sacre-Couer, the stunning cathedral built in the 1870s on the Montmatre hill with its views over all of Paris. We sat in silence in the pews feeling as small as we were and after a while I looked at Jen. She appeared to have found some sort of inner peace, as if she had re-discovered a long-dormant faith or had perhaps experienced a divine intervention. I asked what she was thinking. “You know that denim skirt I bought in London,” she responded. “How do you think it’d look with the long socks I bought in Paris and the boots I bought in Rome?”

It was a spectacular combination, I admitted,

Today we visited the cathedral of Notre Dame, built between 1163 and 1334 (I wonder what Sarah Beeny would have to say about that – “The build came in over 140 years late and waaay over budget…”). We climbed the many, many stairs to the top for yet another magical view over this fairy-tale city.

On the way up, and up, and up…

Funny faces atop Notre Dame (with a vague Eiffel Tower in the background)

When we returned to the ground floor we took our place in the pews, then for Sam’s sake lit a candle and told him to make a wish. We’ve lit many a flame with Sam many times in many cathedrals around the globe and his wish has always involved a toy connected with a show he is currently watching (“I wish for a Ben 10 omnitrix!” or “I wish for a Night Fury dragon”). But this time he said, “I wish the Notre Dame was next to where I live”.

If this cathedral was to move next to our house we figure at least one of our neighbours, Bruce & Van or Cookie & Jennifer, would be a little annoyed. Many neighbouring families would also be upset that they no longer had anywhere to park their Ford Falcon XR-6s (complete with spoilers, metallic paint jobs and chrome trims). So it’s not really practical to move the Notre Dame cathedral next to where we live, but maybe one day it will be a little more practical to move where-we-live a lot closer to the Notre Dame. One day. That’s a big wish, Sambo. Maybe let’s get the small matter of your schooling out of the way, first…

Top Of The Town

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve visited Paris and I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower up close and personal, but today was the first day in my life I have explored the summit of Monsieur Eiffel’s spectacular erection.

I’m unsure as to why this is. In the early days of my backpacking adventures it would have had to do with cost. In recent years it would have had to do with queues. But today, we three cashed-up tourists set out bright and early and arrived at the launch pad before any crowds had mustered.

The experience was magical – even, to borrow one of Chris's favourite expressions, “mind-blowing”. My companions were in equal amounts of awe. Once at the top and looking at Paris from a high, through the mist, Chris noted that the tower was swaying in the wind. When I reminded him the structure was originally intended to be standing for just 20 years, and was built in the late 1800s, we descended tout de suite. With our feet firmly planted on the ground, Sam cried out in despair, tears running down his cheeks, “I don’t want to leave the Eiffel Tower!”

Level 2 of Eiffel Tower, on the way to the summit

Safe again on Terra Firma

Sam is an extremely well-travelled four-and-a-half year old, but nothing has captured his imagination quite like the cast-iron wonder. Since seeing it again on Sunday Sam has fired questions at me about its size, age, construction and history. Fortunately, a few years ago I wrote a short history of the landmark (see it here – http://www.iconistry.com/2011/01/eiffel-tower.html – on our website ‘Iconistry’) and was well armed when the barrage began. We have promised him we will return before we leave next week.

In other news, we spent a freezing morning yesterday in the Luxembourg Gardens while Sam amused himself in the playground…

It’s all fun until someone loses a finger, thanks to frostbite…

…and we stopped by the Musee Rodin following our Eiffel Tower adventure today…

Sam and Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’ – it possible for a photo to be oxymoronic?

Finally, just this afternoon Sam amused an entire green grocery store with his bold experiments with the French language. At the green grocer:

Fruiterer: “Bonjour.”

Sam: “Bonjour.”

Fruiterer: “Ca va?”

Sam: “Tres bien.”

(fruiterer and shop assistant laugh)

Sam: “What do I say next, Mum?”

Mum: “Merci. Au revoir.”

Sam: “Merci. Au revoir.”

Fruiterer and assistant (waving & laughing): “Au revoir!”